Page 12 of Bound by a One-Night Vow

Izzy had never considered him as a temporary husband. Never. She’d skipped past his name in her phone as if she were avoiding contamination. Just seeing his name there had been enough to make her heart stutter and her breath stick in the walls of her throat.

But now she was wearing his ring on her finger and the only way she would be free of him was when the six-month period was up. Six months! Six months living with Andrea, pretending to be his wife in public.

How would she survive the torture?

Even more worrying...how would she survive the temptation?

* * *

Izzy remained silent in the cab until it pulled into the forecourt of Andrea’s luxury hotel in Mayfair. The paparazzi had gathered and were waiting under the crimson and gold awning that sheltered the drive-through area in front of the grand old building. Had he given the press the heads-up? Or had they automatically assumed he would bring her here for their...gulp...wedding night? It was, after all, his home when he came to London. He mostly lived between his two homes in Positano and Florence. She glanced at Andrea with a frown. ‘I thought we were going back to Henri’s for dinner?’

‘It’s been a big day.’ That self-satisfied gleam was back in his eyes. ‘We both need an early night, sì?’

Izzy couldn’t control the shimmery little tremor that went through her body. It was as if champagne had been injected into her bloodstream—little bubbles of forbidden excitement that made her breath hitch and her heart hammer. She couldn’t be alone with him until she got herself back under control. She had no defence against the pull of attraction. It was like trying to fight a bloody battle with a paper sword. ‘But I was looking forward to eating at Henri’s. It’s one of my favourite places. I’m hungry and—’

‘I’m sure I’ll find something in my hotel to satisfy that appetite of yours.’ Something about his tone made her suspect he might not be talking about food. ‘I’ll handle the press,’ he added. ‘And remember, we’re madly in love and are now on our honeymoon.’

A hotel porter came to collect Izzy’s overnight bag from the cab. Andrea led Izzy past the paparazzi, stopping long enough to say they would like some privacy to celebrate their marriage. The congratulations were hearty and enthusiastic, and some of the comments he made back to the press made it sound like Izzy had been waiting for this moment for most of her life. Sickening. Just sickening. She had never felt more furious. How dare he tell the world she’d had a crush on him since she was a teenager?

She hadn’t.

She didn’t.

She never would.

The cameras continued to flash and click like rapid gunfire, the recording devices thrust in front of their faces to such a degree Andrea put his arm up to shield Izzy’s from them. ‘Thank you, everyone,’ he said. ‘It’s time for us to be left alone now to enjoy our first night together.’

Their first night together...

How those words made her insides shiver and her pulse race. His arm around her waist was a steel cord of strength but, strangely, she felt protected by it. She hadn’t felt as threatened as she normally would when the press surged at her. He had made sure no one bumped her or came too close. It was nothing but an act—a charade of Loving Husband for the cameras. But, even so, it made her solid dislike of him soften a little around the edges.

Andrea took her to a private elevator that only senior hotel staff used, the doors closing off the rest of the world with a gentle swish. Izzy immediately sprang to the other side of the elevator and folded her arms across her body, shooting him a glare that was multiplied by the mirrored walls.

He leaned with indolent grace against the side wall. ‘It seems we have created quite a storm of interest, cara.’ His lazy smile came at her from every wall of the elevator. ‘The heiress enfant terrible and the billionaire hotelier has quite a ring to it, does it not?’

Izzy ground her teeth until her molars threatened mutiny. ‘Did you have to make up such absolute rubbish about me? I have not, did not and will not ever have a crush on you.’

His gaze swept over her body as if he was removing every stitch of her clothing. Heat flared between her thighs when his gaze came back to hers. Smouldering eyes. Eyes that burned holes into her resolve like laser pointers. ‘You have always wanted me, cara. I feel it every time you look at me.’

‘Right back at you, buddy.’ Izzy raised her chin. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me. And for God’s sake stop calling me cara.’

He pressed the emergency stop button on the elevator and it came to a gliding halt. So did Izzy’s breathing. ‘W-what are you doing?’

He came to where she was standing against the back wall of the elevator, stopping so close to her she felt his muscled thighs brush hers. He put one hand on either side of her head, caging her between his arms. His chocolate-brown eyes meshed with hers in a lock that made the floor of her belly shiver like tinsel in a breeze. ‘I’m not denying I want you, tesoro mio. I want you very much. But I think you want me more, sì?’ One of his thighs gently nudged her legs apart and she gasped when the hard ridge of his muscle-packed leg came in contact with her mound.

Izzy couldn’t breathe. Her heart was beating so fast and so erratically she thought it might pop right out of her chest. Every pore of her body was aware of him—acutely, thrillingly aware. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth—the sexy masculine contours that had felt so magical against her own. She moistened her lips and he followed every millimetre of its journey with his hooded gaze. ‘Other people might need to use the elevator.’ Her voice was so croaky it sounded like she’d been hanging around a frog pond and got too friendly with the natives.

His smile tilted a little further, making his eyes darken even further. ‘It’s my hotel. My elevator. And you are my wife.’

Izzy intended to push him away but somehow her hands fisted in his shirt instead. The toned muscles of his chest were like plates of steel against her knuckles, the citrus and woodsy fragrance of him making her dizzy with longing. ‘In name only.’

‘So far.’ He lowered his head to brush his stubbly jaw against the side of her face, sending her senses into frenzy. ‘But how long will that last?’

Desire flooded her being. Giant, thumping, pumping waves of it moving through her with such force she had trouble standing. Had she ever felt lust so powerful? So overwhelming? It was like a fever in her blood, a racing, raging red-hot fever that made it impossible for her to think of anything but how he made her feel. ‘I’m not going to sleep with you, Andrea.’ But I want to. I want to so badly.

He moved his mouth to just an inch above hers, his warm breath mingling intimately with hers. His thigh moved against her, teasing the heart of her with slow rubs and nudges that made her knees wobble and her spine melt like honey in a heatwave. ‘We’ll be good together, cara. Better than good.’

Izzy’s fingers gripped his shirt even tighter but still she didn’t push him away. Why aren’t you pushing him away? The alarm bell of her conscience was too faint for her to take notice. It was like trying to hear someone’s whisper at a heavy metal concert. Her need of him was too strong, too powerful. She closed the distance between their mouths, pressing her lips to his, delighting in the tantalising feel of him responding.

---